


abroad

by Cloudnine101



Series: Queer [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Insecurity, Kissing, Love, M/M, Male Homosexuality, POV Second Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudnine101/pseuds/Cloudnine101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He grins against your neck, and presses a kiss to the lobe of your ear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You heard me, old man. Abroad. Out there." Eggsy waves a hand towards the window. "The two of us. We could hire a motorboat. Move to America. Start a new era."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"A motorboat?" You smile. "What a rebel you are."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	abroad

It's a Monday. Afternoon. Hot, steamy choking. 

You're lying on your back, and you're looking up at the ceiling. The window's open. You can hear buzzing - clicking.

There's a hand on your waist, and a chin on your neck. You lean backwards. His breath flutters against your neck. His lips move.

You unpeel yourself, rolling to your feet. Your hips ache. You stretch, and reach upwards, and smile. On the bed, he doesn't stir - just keeps whispering.

He's wearing a grey vest, and white cotton pyjama bottoms. His feet are bare. The vest is his. The trousers are yours.

You walk to the window, and you lean outside. The city buzzes. A motorcar - a pigeon. Coo. Flutter. Spring. Start. Cuss. Creak. Pop.

The floorboards wince.

"How would you feel 'bout going abroad?" Eggsy says.

"Hm?" you say. "What's that?"

He grins against your neck, and presses a kiss to the lobe of your ear.

"You heard me, old man. Abroad. Out there." Eggsy waves a hand towards the window. "The two of us. We could hire a motorboat. Move to America. Start a new era."

"A motorboat?" You smile. "What a rebel you are."

He hits your arm, and laughs, and takes your hand. Your fingers lace together.

"It's legal over there, ain't it?" 

You shake your head. 

He tastes of the morning, and toothpaste, and orange juice. You lick his lips, and he chuckles, smoothing down the creases in your clothes.

"You never were a good student," you say. "You ought to know these things, by now." 

He puts his hand behind his head. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yes. Never quite paid enough attention."

He pouts. "Payin' attention now, ain't I?"

You nod.

"Indeed," you say, and put your hands on his shoulders, and draw him close. His hands press against your waist.

"Don't know if I have the time of day. If I'm such a bad student, that is."

He grins at you, lashes lowers. You tip up his chin with the pad of one finger.

"Eggsy," you say.

He rocks backwards. "Yeah?"

"How would you feel? About - leaving."

"What? Quit your job?" He snorts. "Pigs'll fly first."

You push him against the wall, and rest your hands against his chest. He is framed in the morning. He is orange and grey.

"You are impossible," you say - whisper, into his neck. He tenses. He shakes. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

And you don't. You truly, truly don't.

He looks at you, and he smiles, and it quavers. He does not seem certain. His chest is a metronome.

"Love me?" he says.

Your breath catches, and you kiss him on the lips, and he is impossible, and you lead him to the bed, and he falls down beneath you, stumbling over the mess of shirts and breeches and boots, and you smile, and he laughs, and he _laughs_.


End file.
